Augusta County: Clinton Hatcher to Mary Anna Sibert, October 8,
1861
Summary:
Clinton Hatcher discusses changes in his regiment, including its possible incorporation into
Longstreet's Brigade. Hatcher also asks Mary Sibert whether she could possibly love him.
Miss Mary A Sibert
Mt. Solon
Augusta County
Virginia
October 8 th 1861
Camp Johnson
Dear Miss Mary:
Your very welcome letter was received from the courier yesterday and although he may have borne despatches of more importance to the Southern Confederacy, yet I am certain that none contained half so much to interest the recipients as did that fair missive. I was afraid at first that you would finally grow weary of writing such long letters to one who could offer so poor a return for them and it rejoices me exceedingly every time I receive another practical assurance that such is not, yet at least, the case.
It is currently reported here that we are soon to be attached to Longstreet's Brigade, which
you know is in the very vanguard of our army. They have been down nearly to Alexandria and are
still the advanced Brigade. If I was certain that a battle would take place very soon I would
like very much for the "eigth" to be placed under Longstreet as he is a brave man and will be
one of the first to commence fighting, but if we are only to be wearied out with marchings and
pickett duty I had much rather remain here in Loudon until we cross into Maryland. The news
from Jno. is glorious and if we could only get over into Maryland, Beauregard might soon
dictate his terms of peace with his cannons leveled at Philadephia. For my part I should like
Boston once to hear the roar of our artillery, it would tame the firey spirits of some
fanatical leaders. But I am tired of writing on a subject which I hear discussed so incessantly
therefore I will change the current to a theme which interests me
infinitely more than all else on earth your own dear (pardon me) self
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You bid me write all I feel, yet I can not summon
courage to tell what I have never told before. I fear--every thing. Yet I have already told you
in effect all I would say; my last letter must have conveyed all to
your mind; Can you bid me hope? I know I have no right to infer any thing from what you have
said previous to this; it is true you have expressed friendship for me but friendship is cold
and formal, and I fear you can give nothing more. Oh! If I could only hold your hand and look
into those eyes which have lit the darkest hours of our separation you could then no longer
doubt with what feelings I regard you, you would then know how much I
love. I confess I have dared to hope, from the free and confiding
style of your letters that perhaps you could reciprocate my affections, but if I have
misconstrued your manner and from false premises formed wrong conclusions please do not blame
me, my wishes may have biased my judgement, but if so I deserve sympathy rather than censure. I
shall in that event try to love you more as a sister, and be a friend
to the one, who more fortunate than myself, shall gain your hand and priceless love. So far
life has been to me a happy dream my wishes have been realised, I have succeeded in my
undertakings and fortune has smiled upon me. In school and college I never thought of failing
and thought the highest rank only worthy my exertions, but every one must learn to bear
disappointments, and if I must endure this, although the sorest of my life, I will try to nerve
myself for the sad task. Being alone in the world, having no sister in whom to confide and upon
whom to lavish the
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tender affections of my nature, and no brother whose helping
hand could smooth the path of life, I have always longed for some one to love, to trust with every secret of my heart one who would seem almost a part of my
existence. Although not usually considered sentimental, I do not think love to be a fairy
legend of the Poet's brain, but a powerful, enduring passion which binds the heart to that of
another, firmly and forever. Such is the love
I would offer. Can you receive and requite
it? You ask who it is I would [unclear: bide] you love and encourage me with the
assurance that you "could not be so cruel as to deny him all the deep devotion of your fond
heart." But you have just said the one you love must be "embelished with the charms of
refinement nobleness and goodness." Oh! that the one of whom I spoke could pass that hard
ordeal, then it is I, I would bid you love but I feel that the aspirant for that greatest of
all
earthly prizes if weighed in the balance
would be found wanting. I am certain you have long ago become weary of the subject about which
I have been writing, and which my inexperienced pen has rendered so uninteresting. It is indeed
a novel undertaking with me to describe the secret attractions and impulses of my heart,
feelings never before experienced. But I know you will make sufficient apologies to your own
mind for a letter which is from the heart and not the intellect. Please do not neglect to
answer all these things in your next for you have no idea how eagerly and impatiently
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I shall await an answer. You need not fear of wearying me no
matter how much you may write on that subject or indeed on any other.
The greatest pleasure of my life is in the free and unrestrained communion with kindred
spirits, and thoughts and feelings are always more welcome, whose sympathising emotions are
far dearer than all on earth besides.
Oh! If I could only be free once more and go to the spot, to which my thoughts ever tend, I
could be supremely happy, now I cannot help like Moore's lover sighing for the placid
"Lake,
And the light canoe of my dear".
To be your companion in those boat rides and
mountain strolls, to be your escort when you ride and sit beside you when no one else is near
and tell you all I feel, all the depth of my affection for you, that would be the ultimatum of happiness, my imagination can paint
nothing which nearer realises my idea of the "Sunum bonum", the greatest good of all on earth.
But I must close, I have already wearied you I fear and must not try your patience too far. Please write to me at once a long, confiding letter; tell me all, even the worst. I shall wait so impatiently for your next letter, but I know you will be punctual, you always are.
Please think sometimes of one who always remembers you, and most truly your devoted,
Clinton
